A Bearable World
by padfoot's prose
Summary: "Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable" - George Bernard Shaw. A collection of Klaine drabbles inspired by fanart.
1. Couch Cuddles

**Couch Cuddles**

**_by padfoot_  
**

**Inspired by post 17058157232 by pencilpushingenthusiast on tumblr**

* * *

"Blaine, seriously. Get. Off. I will kill you if you crease these jeans."

"Don't worry, Kurt. I promise I won't crease your jeans."

"Okay, but my Dad will kill you if he finds you sitting on my lap. And he's due home any minute."

"Shush, stop worrying. I'm not even on your lap. Not really. Besides, your Dad loves me. He won't mind."

"I don't think his love for you extends that far, sweetie. I would not put it past him to bodily throw you off his couch and his son."

"With his heart condition? Never!"

Kurt scowled at his boyfriend for a long moment, but Blaine's expression remained optimistic, amber eyes gleaming and mouth curved in a wide smile.

"C'mon, Kurt," he finally said, lips pouting a little. "Just read your magazine. You know Finn will use it to shine his shoes or something if you don't finish it soon."

"I don't even think Finn knows how to shine his shoes. I don't think he knows that some shoes need shining."

"You're right," Blaine instantly agreed with a definite nod. "Finn probably doesn't know. But you know who does know? Vogue. Vogue knows. So you read, and I'll snuggle (completely, undoubtedly not-on-your-lap) and we can both be happy."

"If my Dad kills you it's your own fault," Kurt warned idly, finally flipping open the magazine.

"That's okay," Blaine replied, dropping his cheek to Kurt's shoulder and nuzzling in closer. "This is definitely worth it."


	2. Fireplace

**Fireplace**

**_by padfoot_  
**

**Inspired by post 12247871034 by leeminkyo on tumblr**

* * *

"Blaine, what are you doing lighting a fire? It's not even that cold out!"

Kurt was scowling as he entered the living room, his eyes drawn, as usual, to the hideous statuette on the mantle piece before settling on his boyfriend. Blaine was kneeling before the fireplace, prodding at the pile of sticks and logs inside as they began to crackle, submitting themselves willingly to the small flames licking at them hungrily.

"But it could get cold soon," Blaine reasoned as he tossed the poker to the side and closed the glass screen, blocking out the cool breeze that had accompanied Kurt into the room. "Besides, it's much more romantic like this."

The last part was said with a grin, thrown carelessly over his shoulder before Blaine shuffled backwards to admire his handiwork. The fire was burning in earnest now, and Kurt could hear the faint whooshing noise as it sucked in air from outside, transforming it into wisps of smoke that were promptly wove up the chimney. He tired not to look impressed at Blaine's efforts, instead turning his attention back to the statuette as he approached, toeing off his shoes before stepping onto the fluffy carpet that covered the tiled floor.

The chalet was, although far from perfect, free - it had been a gift from Blaine's parents, who'd agreed to pay a week's rent as a peace offering to their son - and that simple fact made all of it far more attractive to Kurt than it would otherwise have been. Of course, the imperfections sometimes (often) got in the way, from the hole in the kitchen floor to the creaky beds to that damn statuette that was the single flaw in the otherwise charming living room.

Well, the second flaw, now that Blaine had lit the fire.

"You know that soot is going to get on the rug," Kurt pointed out, walking to stand beside his boyfriend, who was still kneeling on the floor, eyes fixed on the growing flames before him. "And then I'll have to clean it up, and do you have any idea how difficult it is to get soot out of shag? If I have to wash it it will never dry in this weather, and I don't even know how far away the nearest dry cleaner is-"

"Kurt," Blaine interrupted, turning to look up.

His hazel eyes still reflected some of the fire's light, and Kurt inhaled deeply to hide a gasp at the mesmerising effect of it - the deep russet and sparkling gold that danced in Blaine's irises, as is the fire itself was burning inside him.

"Hmm?" Kurt responded, unable to frame anything remotely close to a word, let alone a sentence.

"Relax. Please."

A small smile curled on Kurt's lips at Blaine's earnest tone, and he let Blaine take his fingers from where they were tugging on the side of his too-big sweater and pull them to his lips, kissing them softly.

"The rug is not going to get dirty. The fire will not be too hot. In fact, if you just sit down here with me, I promise you this evening will be perfect."

Kurt's smile grew tender at the words, and he reached out to trace a line down the side of Blaine's face, feeling where his cheeks were flushed from sitting so close to the heat of the fireplace. The light caress elicited a shiver from Blaine, and his eyes fluttered closed as he leant into Kurt's hand, needing to be nearer, needing to feel more.

"Come sit down," Blaine tried again, breathing the words into Kurt's palm, lifting a hand up to capture his fingers as their touch lightened and they began to pull away. "The fire is so delightful."

Kurt groaned, rolling his eyes and tugging his hand away, laughing at little when Blaine made a faint whimpering noise at the loss of contact.

"This evening is certainly not going to be perfect if you insist on quoting songs to me, Blaine Anderson," Kurt warned, fixing his boyfriend with a stern look as he moved away a step, closer to the fireplace.

Blaine opened his mouth to respond, but Kurt cut him off by saying, "And that includes any mention of it being 'cold outside'."

Frowning somewhat petulantly, Blaine obediently shut his mouth again.

Trying to hide a laugh at his boyfriend's expression, Kurt turned away, his gaze fixing again on that stupid little statuette that seemed to mock him from its position above the now roaring fire. As much as Kurt hated to admit it, this evening very well could be perfect - what with the fire and Blaine and the rug and Blaine and Blaine and Blaine, looking so damn perfect in his jacket and loose pants, warms socks on his feet and his hair beginning to fall from its shackles of gel. And despite his concern about ashes and soot, really, there was only one thing in Kurt's mind that was stopping this scene from being ideal (well, two things, given that Blaine was clothed, but that could be remedied soon enough): the statuette.

Hoping the action appeared casual, Kurt absently lifted a hand to stroke across the head of the small, ugly excuse for a - what was it, exactly? An angel? An elf? A fairy? Kurt honestly couldn't tell which - piece of art. He could feel Blaine's eyes on his back, and knew his next move would have to be careful if he wanted to get away with it.

"I don't think this should stay here," Kurt said, as if the idea were just an errant thought.

"Is that so?" Blaine replied, and Kurt could tell that already he was teasing. Blaine knew exactly how hideous that bloody statuette was. Good. At least they were on the same page.

"I mean, I wouldn't want it to get... dirty... from being above the fire."

"You make a valid point. Something as- uh, unique as that should be kept far away from anything that could hurt it."

The silent 'like you' was heavily implied.

"Yes. I agree. I think I'll move it."

Kurt picked it up, surprised at its weight in his hand, and did his best to resist throwing it against the nearest wall. Oh, it was would be so satisfactory to see it hit the brick, maybe lose an arm or a leg or one of those ridiculous wings...

But, no. This wasn't his house (thank God) or his statuette. He'd just put it out of sight. Somewhere where it's beady little eyes couldn't watch him, constantly staring as if waiting for him to do something offensive.

With a calmness that he was proud of, Kurt carried the statuettes out of the room, shoved it in the back of pantry and, skipping over the hole in the kitchen floor, returned to the living room. Blaine was still waiting for him on the floor, sitting with his legs crossed now, still in front of the fire. His cheeks were positively glowing, and Kurt wondered vaguely if it was possible to get sunburn from a fireplace.

But then Blaine was gazing at his with a wide, inviting gaze, lifting an hand out in a wordless beckon for Kurt to come closer. And, now that there was no creepy angel/elf/fairy monstrosity watching him, Kurt acquiesced, sinking down onto the rug and snuggling into Blaine's side.

"You're all warm," he mumbled into Blaine's neck, one hand coming up to tug at his collar so Kurt could press his lips against the skin there.

Blaine hummed in agreement, both his arms slipping around Kurt's body, pulling him closer, until his chest was pressed against Kurt's side.

"I think you need some warming up," he suggested, a smile clear in his tone.

Kurt let his eyes fall shut as he felt Blaine's lips tickling his hair, his forehead, his eyebrows, tempting his head up from where it was still buried in Blaine's neck. They shared a soft, brief kiss - a prologue, a promise, a spark: a mere hint of what was yet to come.

Struggling to open his eyes as Blaine kissed down his chin, along his cheek, over to his ear, Kurt watched the rough-smooth movement of Blaine's jaw, the shifting skin and light smattering of stubble, so distinctly human and real and Blaine...

"I love you," he murmured, letting his eyes close again and letting out a desperate sort of moan as Blaine pulled his earlobe into his mouth, sucking it lightly.

Of its own accord, Kurt's hand was pulling harder at Blaine's collar, urging him closer, trying valiantly to remove every inch of space between their bodies, curled up on the rug. He felt Blaine's hold on him tighten, a palm pressing hard and solid against his hip, fingers playing with hem of Kurt's sweater.

"Me too," Blaine whispered back, pulling detaching himself from his boyfriend's earlobe only for the moment it took to reply.

Kurt moaned outright this time at the new sensation of Blaine's teeth, just skimming over the shell of his ear as he kissed around it.

"So," Blaine started again, his tone still soft and silky smooth, his lips still brushing oh-so-slightly against Kurt's skin, making Kurt's whole body buzz with a pleasant mix of anticipation and adoration. "Now that I've got this romantic fire going, how about we shag. On the shag."

There was a moment of silence, and Kurt could practically feel the laughter that Blaine was suppressing twitching in his lips, which were still pressed temptingly against the hollow beneath Kurt's ear. But two could play at this game.

"Sounds perfect," Kurt replied.

And if, the next day, there were some unseemly stains in the rug, well... Kurt was sure that Blaine would be happy to scrub them out. And he'd make sure the statuette was there to supervise his boyfriend's progress.


	3. Sofa

**Sofa**

**_by padfoot_  
**

**Inspired by post 29240570153 by klaineitupanotch on tumblr**

* * *

They both listened for the sound of the front door slamming shut, and within five seconds Kurt had already clambered onto Blaine's lap, hands carding through his hair as he pulled him in for a rough, needy kiss.

"I thought she was never going to leave," Kurt moaned against Blaine's lips, kissing up his cheekbone and then back to the soft pout of his mouth.

Blaine hummed in agreement, his mind still trying to catch up to what was going on. He felt Kurt settle onto his lap, and it was instinct more than anything that drove his hands up his boyfriend's legs to settle on his thighs. Blaine bit back a groan, reaching up to hold Kurt's head as his teeth dragged, agonisingly slow, across Blaine's bottom lip. Kurt's eyes were wide open, blazing as he pulled back, gaze solidly fixed on Blaine.

"Too much?" he asked, when seconds had passed by and Blaine had still failed to say a word.

Blaine let out a stuttered laugh, finally saying, "Yeah… maybe a little. I'm not quite sure what just happened." His smile was more than a bit dazed.

Kurt grinned, hands leaving Blaine's hair and sliding down to his hips.

"Well," he answered, tracing a fingertip back up Blaine's chest to begin tugging at his bowtie, "I'm sure you'll catch up soon."


	4. Jetty

**Jetty**

**_by padfoot_  
**

**Inspired by post 29698863480 by pencilpushingenthusiast on tumblr**

* * *

"Can I turn the page?"

"Mmph?"

Kurt tilted his head back slowly, letting out a quiet laugh as he felt Blaine kiss a line through his hair and down his forehead, neck straining forward to press his lips softly against the tip of Kurt's nose.

"You weren't reading this at all, were you?" Kurt jokingly accused, eyes narrowing on the looming dark shape of his boyfriend's chin.

"Umm…" Blaine hummed as he considered his answer, the sound vibrating through Kurt's back, making his eyes flutter shut.

Making Blaine smile at the twinkle of the afternoon sun on his boyfriend's eyelashes.

He lifted a hand to tickle Kurt's fingers, tracing the long lines of muscle up his arms, over the sensitive crease of his elbow. Kurt let out a soft, breathy sigh as Blaine's knuckles skimmed across his shoulder, up his neck, fingertips curling under his chin to pull Kurt's head up, closer.

Their lips met in a tingling, light kiss, skewed sideways-upside down. The soft touch tingled with the taste of sunshine and lemonade and summer. The taste of I'll love you forever, whispered like a secret by the slip and slide of their lips.

"No," Blaine admitted, letting his hand fall back onto the warm wooden planks of the jetty. "I wasn't reading it."

Idly turning a page, Kurt titled his head back to his magazine, grumbling under his breath, "…doesn't think my magazines are worth reading…"

"No," Blaine said curtly, "I just can't read it right now. Far too distracted."

And he pressed his lips into Kurt's hair once more, marvelling at the warmth of it all.


	5. New York Kiss

**New York Kiss**

**_by padfoot_  
**

**Inspired by post 30984022989 by ourlivesareweird on tumblr**

* * *

The kiss is bitter and fierce and salty. Salty like the tears streaming down Kurt's face, like those pooling in Blaine's eyes that he was so, so sure he'd never let fall. The ones that he didn't let fall - that he held all through, "I love you, but- but..." But now they're kissing and he cries because it feels like forever, but also like the end. It feels like the first kiss, like the last kiss; the only kiss that matters.

And, just like that, a thousand kisses melt away into the past - memories forced out of hysterical minds by lips pushing too hard, taking too much. A sharp, burning moment of bittersweet goodbye as, slowly, everything they were fades away into the night.

Gone.

Stolen, by the salty, salty taste that stings like the sea.


End file.
